Vintage recipe test: Good Neighbor Cake

This recipe comes to you from Cooking Bold and Fearless, a 1957 Sunset Magazine publication that features recipes from "Chefs-of-the-West," predominantly male, as far as I can tell.

The Good Neighbor Cake recipe is signed by Fred Nehsmann, a writer in Lemon Grove, Calif. I tried looking him up on the internet to no avail, so I'm not sure of his credentials and why he was deemed worthy of inclusion in the "Chefs-of-the-West" group. 

A neighborhood block party provided the perfect occasion to try this out. I know it's never a good idea to test out a new recipe on guests or party-goers, but I put a lot of faith in the title. I've always loved the idea of baking something to take to a neighbor, but have been too shy to do so, so a block party provided a way to quietly set something on a table and let people try it, no pressure. I also loved the seasonal ingredient of apple at an October gathering.

The Good Neighbor Cake a basic layer cake with orange zest, and the frosting is made with egg whites and sugar, studded with apple. Otherwise, nothing terribly fancy.

While it turned out fine, a few modifications along the way probably made it better than as written, and had I been more of an expert in making layer cakes, I probably would have realized sooner that caster sugar is better for cakes and frosting, and that I overwhipped my egg whites for the batter. 

The cakes also sunk quite a bit, and I wonder if that was because of the egg whites, or because I forgot to turn on the oven ahead of time, so the pans with the batter were sitting out longer before going in the oven.

The simple frosting called for freshly grated apple, and I worried that the apple would cause the mixture to separate due to wetness, or make the cake soggy. I elected to squeeze out as much juice as possible before adding it to the frosting, and while it was still kind of a sloppy frosting, it held up okay on a cool evening (the juice was also very tasty on its own!). But I wish I'd used powdered sugar because you could feel the grit on your teeth.

Also, how do we feel about eating uncooked egg whites? I'm OK with it, but it's one of those things I probably wouldn't tell people before they eat it... that's the kind of Good Neighbor I am.

Here's the original recipe:

And my version:

Good Neighbor Cake

Adapted from Cooking Bold and Fearless

Ingredients

1/2 c. butter, room temperature

1 1/2 c. sugar

Zest of one large orange

4 eggs

2 c. sifted cake flour (i.e., sift the flour before you measure it)

4 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt

1 c. whole milk

For frosting:

One Granny Smith apple

1 c. powdered sugar or fine/caster sugar (or just blitz regular sugar in the food processor for a few seconds)

2 of the egg whites from the four eggs above

Make the cake

1. Heat the oven to 350. Grease and flour two cake pans.

2. Separate the eggs: using three bowls, place all four yolks in one bowl, and two egg whites in another, and the remaining two in the third bowl (this will be used for the frosting - place these in the fridge until needed). 

3. Sift the flour with the baking powder and salt and set aside.

4. Cream butter and sugar together until light, about 5 minutes on medium speed. Add the orange zest.

5. Beat in egg yolks, one at a time, mixing thoroughly after each addition, scraping down the bowl as necessary. 

6. Alternate adding portions of the flour mixture with the milk, beating until smooth, several rounds. 

7. In a separate bowl, beat the two egg whites until stiff peaks form, but not dry (I overbeat these, I think, which might have caused my cakes to sink). Fold gently into batter until there are no white streaks.

8. Pour batter evenly between the prepared cake pans. Bake 25-30 minutes, until tops are springy and lightly browned. Remove from pans and completely cool on a rack.

Make frosting

1. Peel and grate the apple.

2. Beat the remaining 2 egg whites until stiff, then gradually beat in a cup of powdered sugar (I used regular sugar but found the texture rather grainy; I think powdered or at least caster sugar would have worked out better).

3. Squeeze excess juice from the apple and beat into the frosting. Frost the cooled cakes and layer together. Keep cool in the fridge until serving.

Carrot and Leek Tart

Because it's spring and the farmers' market should have an abundance of leeks and carrots, I am digging this recipe out of my recipe binder archives (handwritten from who-knows-where, circa 2008) to share with anyone who wants something fancy and seasonal. I made it this week for book club and have been enjoying the remnants for lunch.

Pictured at the bottom here...book for scale

Start to finish: 2 hours (due to cooling)

Yields 8 slices. Great for pairing with a salad for a main course.

Tart pastry

1 c. flour
1/4 tsp. salt
2 T. slivered or sliced almonds
4 T. unsalted butter, cold and cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 large egg yolks
1 T. ice water

In the bowl of a food processor, combine the flour, salt and almonds and pulse until almonds are coarsely ground. Add the butter and pulse a few more times (some large butter chunks are OK), then add the egg yolks and ice water and pulse until dough holds together when pressed. Turn the dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap or wax paper and press into a disc, wrap completely and refrigerate for 30 minutes while you prep the filling.

Filling

A little more than a pound of carrots, peeled and sliced in 1/4-inch rounds
2 large leeks, whites and light greens sliced into half moons, rinsed thoroughly
1 tsp. fresh thyme
2 T. chopped parsley
Salt and pepper
2 T. olive oil
2 T. unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1 c. Parmesan cheese

Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

Heat the olive oil over medium high in a large skillet, then add the leeks and a generous pinch of salt. Cook, stirring often, until leeks are softened and beginning to color, about 6 minutes.

In a large saucepan, combine carrots, 3/4 c. water, thyme, parsley and butter, and salt and pepper to taste. Heat over high until it boils, then reduce to a simmer. Cook until most of the liquid is evaporated and the carrots are cooked, about 20 minutes. Remove from heat and prepare the tart pan.

(We'll get to the eggs and cheese in a moment.)

Tart assembly

Butter or spray for pan
Fine breadcrumbs
1/2 c. Parmesan

Generously grease the sides and removable bottom of a tart pan. I have a small 8-inch pan, so I always end up with extra pastry and filling, but it should fit a standard-sized pan or any shape you wish (including smaller individual pans). Coat the inside with the breadcrumbs and set aside.

Roll the chilled pastry to 1/8 inch thickness and place in the tart pan, gently pressing it to fit in the corners and fluted sides. Place the tart pan back in the fridge while you finish the filling.

Remove about a 1/4 c. of carrot slices for the topping (the original recipe specifies 66 uniform slices, but that's tedious and just for looks). Place the rest of the carrots in the food processor with the pan liquid along with the leeks and pulse 5 or 6 times, but don't puree them. Taste the mixture. If it needs a little salt, add it here.

In a large bowl, combine the carrot-leek mixture with 1 cup of Parmesan, 2 eggs, and a few grinds of pepper and stir until evenly mixed.

Grab your tart pan and spread the mixture evenly on top (you may have more than you need). Top with the reserved carrot slices, then sprinkle with 1/2 c. Parmesan.

Bake until well browned and completely set, about 35-40 minutes. Cool completely before removing the tart from the pan to slice. Serve at room temp.

Slap that sage: Milk Street's Cinnamon-Smoked Whiskey Sour

About a decade ago, we got into making cocktails. Like, really into it. We used to go out to bars in Spokane and hopefully but pointlessly ask for things that no one in our Redbull-loving city carried yet, like Fernet Branca, Cynar, genever, Aperol, Punt e Mes, St. Germaine, Luxardo and other assorted specialty gins and whiskies. When we traveled to Seattle or San Francisco, we sought out fancy cocktails and places to purchase these bottles and ended up with a really weird collection of booze over the years. Joel and I introduced friends to Aperol spritzes, capped off dinner parties with decadent layered shots, and collected descriptions of peoples' first tastes and impressions (mostly levels of disgust) of Fernet. With time, Spokane caught up a little with the opening of places like Bon Bon, Clover, Casper Fry and Durkins. We, in the meantime, joined a wine club and changed the focus of our drink snobbery. Mixing drinks is a rare occasion now and has mostly morphed into simple (or lazy, in my case) concoctions based on what we have in the house, no more than two ingredients, and often, just Maker's Mark or Fernet on ice. Our current joy is a little glass of vermouth on the rocks.

But this was New Year's Eve 2018, and I just received a recipe for Cinnamon-Smoked Whiskey Sours in an email from Milk Street. The ingredients were simple enough to procure on a moment's notice, and we had most of them except for the citrus. And the smoked cinnamon provided me an opportunity to light something on fire. I felt the spirit of 2010 - i.e., my enthusiasm for mixed beverages - working its way back into my soul. Part of the reason this spirit ever existed at all is because Joel is the actual cocktail maker. He's great at it. I make up the accompanying snack board. And, as the case may be, I light the cinnamon.

We sipped these while watching a slideshow of our photos from 2018, and I was filled with all sorts of nostalgia. It was a good ending to a year.

I'm sure this beverage would be great without the smoked cinnamon, but don't shortchange yourself. It really is a simple enhancement that goes a long way and makes things feel more festive.


Cinnamon-Smoked Whiskey Sour for Two
adapted from Milk Street

4 oz. bourbon
1 oz. maple syrup
1 oz. lime juice
3 oz. grapefruit juice
1/2 oz. orange juice, plus 2 strips of orange zest
4 fresh sage leaves
2 cinnamon sticks

Light one end of a cinnamon stick so it briefly catches on fire, then as it extinguishes, place it on a heatproof surface and cover it with your cocktail glass to catch the smoke. Do this with the second stick and glass.

Mix all the liquids in a cocktail shaker with ice and shake vigorously for about 15 seconds.

Take a moment to smell how good the cinnamon smoke is when you lift up the glasses. The cinnamon sticks can now be discarded, or perhaps you can use the other ends for future drinks.

Double strain the shaker liquid into the glasses. Garnish with orange zest. Slap the sage leaves and drop into the cocktails.

Enjoy.

One month later...

This has been the strangest way to begin a year. We thought we'd be headed one way, and it turns out that perhaps, very likely, we will be heading down a completely different path. It's been exciting and stressful, and I've been a bundle of nerves and ambivalence due to our sudden entrance into the world of real estate as we move toward purchasing a house. I'll probably spend more time writing about it once we're on the other side of it. For now, suffice it to say that great comfort was found in my old familiar Boise neighborhood last weekend, where I took a too-short trip to celebrate Mom's birthday, talk to my dad for hours about grown-up things like escrow accounts and calculated risks, and relax around the table with family.

Dad and I teamed up to make the birthday cake, using recipes found in his old Betty Crocker cookbook from his bachelor days: black midnight cake and white mountain frosting. He insisted on using the old Hamilton Beach mixer that I remember using as a kid, the one he knows (as opposed to the newer Kitchenaid). He prepared the cake (rich chocolate) and I made the frosting, which is apparently very similar to seven-minute frosting. This was the first time I've ever used a candy thermometer for such an endeavor, and it was surprisingly fun. I might go so far as to say that this my new favorite way to top a cake. So light, fluffy and pretty.

We carried it across the street to my brother's house for the sweet little dinner party. Thanks to my niece Sarrah for picking up the camera to capture some fun moments.

Summer journal: catching up weeks 3 and 4

I curse myself by declaring things like, "Follow this Summer Journal thingy each week!" because inevitably I'll miss one week, and then debate whether to continue at all.

But the fact of the matter is that summer is very summer-like, pulling me in all sorts of directions, and it's not built for routine. Either way, I have a few photos to share. I wish I had more, especially from my trip to Boise.

Here is what summer has looked like recently.

During the heat wave, we spent one Friday night in Peaceful Valley, eating burritos by the river and playing ball with Luna. Just down the road was a community garden.

We held a cornhole championship in the backyard for Joel's birthday.

Behold the cake. I finally made Molly Wizenberg's "Winning Hearts and Minds" cake. This is a Molly Wizenberg summer, apparently.

Margot, perfectly content again in her favorite spot in the window

Since the basement is a cooler place to sleep, we've been trying to coax Luna down there with positive reinforcement (sausage, peanut butter and cheese). Either something from her past or a keen sense of smell or fear of unknown spaces - who knows - is preventing her from joining us. Joel captured the process well. She just won't have it.

A scene in McCall, Idaho. As I mentioned, I did a horrible job of taking pictures on this wonderful little getaway to Boise. I guess part of it was that I got a lot of quality time with my sister - probably the most uninterrupted hang-out time we've had in at least a decade - as well as with my mom and dad and nephews in McCall. There was a lot of sitting and chatting and I didn't think about my camera much.

One of my gifts to Joel for his birthday was a pound of guanciale. In other words, I gave him a pig's jowl. That's love, folks. And also a bit selfish on my part. Now he can make us dishes like this bucatini all'amatriciana for months.

The weather has been crazy around here. Between mini tornadoes and distant wildfires, we've gotten a few incredible sunsets.

Feta & Olive Savory Cake

This summer when we were in Paris, we went to a barbecue that was unlike any I'd been to before. We sat in a circle with our hosts, Audrey and Vincent, and their neighbors. It was a get-to-know-your-neighbor kind of gathering. Minutes before the party started, I helped Audrey assemble an assortment of vegetables and a dipping vinaigrette on their coffee table while Joel and Vincent carried beer and chairs down to the courtyard. One of the guys brought his small tailgater-style grill - the only token of "barbecue" at this gathering - and he placed a nice assortment of spicy Spanish sausage and pork on it. In the center of the circle was a small table of wine. Behind us, a few baguettes sat on a window sill and waited patiently to be broken into. As people arrived, they placed their food offerings - veggies, pasta and couscous salads, mini quiches, savory loaves, and more wine and champagne, along with chocolate and cheese for later - on a table near the entrance. Everyone was young, everyone was friendly.

(photo by Joel Smith, who sneakily stood on a chair to capture this scene)

Rather than serving ourselves from the feasting table, we all sat in this circle, conversing (or in my case, listening) as the different dishes were passed around. Thus we each got a little bit of everything, and if anyone wanted a little more, the dish was usually passed around again. At one point toward the end of eating and midway through drinking the rest of the wine, one girl left momentarily to retrieve some dessert from her kitchen. She returned with trays of individual trifles in champagne flutes. I mean, come on. This was a magical night. (And oh, did we feel it the next morning; the coffee Vincent made was absolutely necessary and tasted unbelievably good.)

One of my favorite samplings in this pass-around barbecue meal was a savory bread containing crab and some assortment of herbs and hard cheese. It was salty, rich and toothsome. After we finished passing it around, I sneaked back over to the table a couple of times for another slice.  I've been wanting to make one of these things ever since.

It's been a long time coming, but a vodka tasting party this past weekend provided an easy opportunity, another situation where a group of us was sitting around, eating whatever was placed in front of us. I came across this particular recipe in a lovely collection by Yvette van Boven called Home Made Summer. It's tangy and rich, and perfect, as she says, with a cold glass of white wine. Or vodka.

Feta & Olive Cake

1 3/4 c. self-rising flour

1/3 c. plus 2 T. olive oil (100 ml)

1/3 c. plus 2 T. white wine (100 ml)

3 large eggs

1 c. grated Parmesan

salt and pepper

5 oz. feta, diced

9 oz. mixed olives, pitted and halved or quartered 

Preheat the oven to 325 and generously grease a 9x5 in. loaf pan. 

In a large bowl, whisk flour, oil, wine, eggs and Parmesan until smooth. Season with a pinch of kosher salt and a few grinds of pepper and stir in the feta and olives.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 45 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean.

Cool in the pan for 5 minutes and turn it out to cool. Serve warm or at room temperature. Store in the refrigerator, wrapped. 

Joel's sgroppino

On a hot summer evening, when strawberries are cheap and abundant and you happen to have champagne lying around in your fridge, you should make this.

I say it's Joel's sgroppino, but the inspiration is from Marcella Hazan, whose cookbook has been a reliable source for ambrosial dishes. Her recipe calls for lemon ice cream. Joel's uses his favorite lemon sorbet instead. 

How to make it (rough instructions - for the full effect, you'll have to have Joel make it, of course): For the two of us, it's a handful of strawberries in the food processor, blended to a magenta slurry and placed in a bowl with a couple spoonfuls of slightly softened sorbet. Whisk them together quickly (next time we will place the berry liquid in the fridge for a bit to keep the sorbet from getting too liquidy), add about a half- to three-quarter-cup of champagne and a little more sorbet, whisk again and add another half cup of champagne. It should be frothy when you pour it into your vessel of choice. 

It's tart and sweet! Can't be beat. 

Summer Journal: Week 3

Just so you know, my intention has been to document weeks spanning from Tuesday-Monday. I was a couple days late last week but I'm trying to get back this week. Does this matter? Obviously not.

Vermont, part deux.

The conference afforded us the opportunity to hang out on a boat in the middle of Lake Champlain. With food and an open bar.

 Extraordinary, I'll say!

Several of us felt the urge to karaoke after the boat cruise. It happened to be my suitemate's birthday as well. Lots of cheers-ing that night.

Polaroids will never die. This was how we identified ourselves at the conference, so during the first couple days we crowded around these posters, trying to figure out who we needed to connect with. Not a bad idea.

This photo is absolute rubbish, but I swear it is Emmylou Harris. She was performing at Burlington's Flynn Theater one night and several of us were just bold enough to sneak a peak.

 These trees lined Main Street and their scent was intoxicating. Can anyone identify it? No, really.

I ducked into the campus theater during another break. An assortment of costumes were on display as well as old posters. I liked this one.

At Magnolia Bistro, I tried one of their much-touted breakfasts for lunch and came away with a serious appreciation for homemade ketchup.

Okay, I know this dish looks absolutely gross, but I totally believe in it after years of skepticism. Poutine, it's called. Fries with cheese curds and gravy. Everyone at my table went nuts for it.

This photo isn't at all awkward, right? But I like it because it shows what happens when you decide to go out on the boat deck and take a shameless selfie.

Sunset on Lake Champlain. The moment when I knew I was ready to go back home.

Delta terminal in Minneapolis. Strangely futuristic.

Back on the bus in Spokane.

 Brothers on bikes.

A farewell/birthday celebration for our friend. Which also happened to be the night they drove ol' Dixie down. (Karaoke twice in one week is a record I don't think I even managed in college.)

Sunset on a country road through a speckled car window. On the way home after a day at Lake Pend Oreille.

Monday was my first day back at work for awhile. I relished it. I resisted the feelings of stress from playing catch-up all morning and escaped to the center of campus to eat my lunch under an umbrella in the library courtyard. Suddenly, I found myself taking pictures of doors all over campus. It ended up being something I could actually use for a social media post later, but the process was strangely meditative. Here are the handles from the doors of the Seeley G. Mudd Chapel.